


Repercussions

by vibranium



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, i guess, really fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibranium/pseuds/vibranium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Three weeks, no missions, no work. Except these.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repercussions

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to Goose for being my wonderful beta reader ♥
> 
> For the Anonymous prompt on tumblr: "Clint gets disciplined/in trouble for saving Natasha instead of killing her. Natasha is there after to comfort him." Hope you enjoy!

“Three weeks, no missions, no work. Except _these_.” A stack of papers hits the desk with that horrible _thud_ that Clint has come to hate.

 

“ _Phil_ , come on, you know she’s gonna be a benefit to us,” Clint complains, whines, pleads, prods. “What the hell is paperwork going to teach me, huh?”

 

“It’s not going to teach you anything, but it sure as hell is going to give you some wrist pain. And I know you hate not having some actual physical work to do,” the handler says, sitting calmly behind his desk, like nothing is going to faze him. “After the three weeks, I expect you in every morning at five thirty sharp. You’ll be training the new recruits for a month. No missions, just training. If you get angry at one of them and flip out, you can add on another month.”

 

The marksman whines like a child and rubs his hands against his face. “All of this, just because I brought her in instead of killing her? Phil, you know _why_ I did what I did. Do you want me to remind --?”

 

“I want this paperwork in by the end of the week. It better be meticulously and beautifully completed, Barton,” Phil says, standing from his seat and going over to the door. He opens it and says, “Listen, I understand that you thought it would be a good idea. But the hassle it’s going to bring down on the agency is… too much of a heavy burden to not apply discipline to the person who caused it.”

 

Clint just grumbles and picks up the paperwork, trudging out of Coulson’s office. He tries not to hear the ‘By the end of the week!’ that comes out of Phil’s mouth.

 

-

 

He knows that if he didn’t at least try to start the paperwork _today_ , there would be no getting it done. ‘By the end of the week’ means ‘by Friday at noon’ in Phil-terms. It’s nine on a Tuesday night in the real world, so there goes Clint’s plans of doing… anything but paperwork.

 

Nine thirty brings three light knocks on his door, where he’s stationed since he’d just gotten back yesterday morning from a mission where he _didn’t kill his target_ , so apparently that means he isn’t allowed to even go home to his friggin’ apartment.

 

The thing is, no one knows that he’s there except for Phil. And Natalia. Natasha. Whatever her _real_ name is.

 

So he stands up and checks through the little peep-hole and finds the tiny girl, her red hair still pulled back away from her face. Her file had said that she was in her mid-twenties, but she’d admitted that she was only nineteen, ‘or somewhere around there.’ Now, she looks about fourteen in the pajama-like clothing she’d been issued the day before.

 

He opens the door for her and rubs a hand against his eyes. “What’re you doing here, huh?” he asks in greeting, one hand resting on the handle of the door while the other drops to his side. “I thought you weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in your cell.”

 

“I asked to see you,” is the simple answer that leaves Natasha’s mouth. Clint thinks her eyes look huge. That and her hair makes him think of a tiny fox. “They said if I came to visit you, the door stays open and these men stay outside, anyway. Do you mind?”

 

That’s when Clint notices the two agents standing about ten feet back from Natasha. “Uh, nah, I don’t mind. Come in. Not like I’m dong much, anyway,” he answers, shrugging and moving back. He grabs a shoe and uses it as a doorjamb, and the agents move to the threshold, just standing there.

 

When Clint turns, he finds Natasha where she’s made herself comfortable on his bed, looking through the paperwork with these weird, high-tech cuffs around her wrists. He thinks it looks sort of funny, the way she’s got to move both hands to just use one. But then it’s sad, the way she looks… _used_ to it.

 

“What is this all for?” she asks, genuinely curious. The agents at the door are too, but more in the way that they’re watching her every move. “They make you write down stuff about your mission? This seems like a lot of paperwork when you’ve brought me in already.”

 

The archer is admittedly cautious when he sits down on his bed and picks his pen up again. “Well, uh, I already told you that I wasn’t _supposed_ to bring you in. This is what I get for following my morals and stuff,” he explains with a resigned shrug. “Need to submit it by Friday, though, so I’m just gonna… get back to it.” He picks up the sheet he was last working on, then sets it back down to write.

 

“I can help you if you need help,” Natasha… Natalia offers. “Not with the paperwork, but I’m sure your head will hurt, or your hand. I know what kind of tea helps for headaches. I used to sneak it to my friend whenever I could manage it and I knew she wasn’t feeling well.”

 

“Yeah?” Clint asks, looking up for a second. He’s actually interested; she hasn’t opened up to anyone, not even while they were trying to pick her brain earlier that day. “What about Tylenol?”

 

“Tea is better for you than pills,” she chuckles, like it’s something he should know. And she smiles, really smiles, for the first time in the almost three days that he’s known her.

 

Suddenly, he’s more okay with her company.


End file.
